Can't Take It Anymore
by enarcoyufuin
Summary: Rated T for a somewhat steamy makeout session and just in case. A random RusAme fluff. To Alfred, the concept of a personal bubble doesn't exist.


**A/N: So this is the side story that I'd been talking about. It shouldn't have taken me two months to finish, but I was ridiculously busy. Plus, I'd like to celebrate a (belated) special occasion! My niece, Mikaylah, was born on Wednesday! She's small, cute, and has a whole lot of spunk. I'm glad that I got to hold her yesterday, even though I was so nervous that I thought I was going to puke. ^^'**

 **Anyway, enjoy! Rate, review, and revel in my merriment!**

"Stop it..."

"No!"

"Fredka, I am warning you..."

"NO! Your face is too squishy and cute!"

Ivan furrowed his brows in irritation as he crossed his eyes to look at the pest below him.

He loved Alfred, he really did. But enough was enough! He just wouldn't stop toying with him. Every second, every minute, every day, Alfred spent rubbing his calloused hands all over the Russian's face. A pinch of the cheeks. A boop of the nose. Tilting his chin up and down.

The first day, he expected it, being in a romantic relationship and all that jazz. Now, it was yesterday's news. He just wanted some peace during his usual cup-of-tea-and-early-morning-newspaper routine.

He sighed as he felt the repeated stabbing of his flesh with a finger and heard small chuckles emanate from the younger's mouth. He stared at his discarded tea in sorrow, spilt all over the newspaper and the printed words bleeding into one another. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, but he knew that he shouldn't cry over spilled milk-er, tea.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Alfred kept at it. "C'mon, turn that frown upside down!" He took Ivan's hand and shook it back and forth. Shaking with tremors, Ivan slapped his hands away, got out of the loveseat without a word, and stomped upstairs in one fluid motion.

Alfred flinched as the slam from the door shook the portaits and pictures on the walls. He sat there on the carpet, dumbfounded. "What's the matter with him?" Something twisted in his gut as he inched towards the staircase and climbed them one by one.

He reached the door and turned the knob, but it held firm. "Ivan? Vanya? Are you okay?" Al placed his ear on the door, and listened to the shuffling coming from the other side. "Can you let me in?"

A muffled "nyet."

"Why not?" He whined.

More muffled speaking came through the door.

"Can't understand what you're sayin', bud."

Quick footsteps, a click of a lock, and then the rough compression of springs.

Alfred hesitated, drawing his arm back for a slight second, gaining some courage, then twisted the knob again.

He found Ivan sprawled onto the bed they shared, his face in one of the many pillows lying around. He inched towards the Russian, wary of a violent reaction. The young blond sat on an unoccupied bedside chair and stared at the lifeless body on the bed.

"Babe, what's the matter?" Alfred tried, not wanting to touch him just yet, twiddling his thumbs.

Ivan lifted his head sluggishly and gazed at him with a withering glare. "Do you really want to know?"

Alfred steeled himself. "Yes."

Just at the expression on his face, Ivan's glare softened. He sighed, "Alfredka, there is not anything really wrong. It is just that your new...er-hobby is starting to bug, that is all." Dancing around the subject, he sat up, eyes searching his partner's face for a reaction.

"I-I didn't know it bothered you so much, big guy. Why didn't you tell me? I would've stopped..." He hung his head.

"You had just looked so happy and-and, your smile-I could not disappoint you. But it did feel kind of nice." He admitted shyly, his face crimson. Oh, how he wished that he had his scarf on him...

"Really?"

Violet eyes darted around the room before they landed back on Alfred, pulsating with unbridled emotion. "Da."

Tears pooled in his eyes as he rocketed out of his chair and pounced onto the Russian, embracing him gently as their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Initially taken by surprise, Ivan jolted upright, then closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, their hands searching one another and left disheveled appearances in their wake. Reluctantly, they pulled away, a thin sliver of saliva connected between them. He reached up and brushed away any stray tears on the American's face using his palms.

Both breathless, Alfred tried to balance himself on his hands and knees, but quickly gave up and flopped onto the bed next to his lover. He shifted to look him, cornflower blue eyes laced with mirth and relief.

His eyes closed for a brief second, then they shot open as his nerve endings engulfed themselves in pain. He clutched his cheek in astonishment. Deep chuckling came from the other side of the bed, Ivan clutching his side, one of his hands still near his skin.

He felt a grin emerge, then he mimicked a crab and took hold of the Russian's nose and held firm, hearing the sputter of dying laughter and the strangled sound of air trying to force itself out his nostrils.

Now a light shade of plum, from the lack of air or the fact that he was still trying to laugh, he didn't know. Lashing out, his flailing fist accidentally slammed into Alfred's gut, knocking the wind out of him, but successfully loosening his grip.

Coughing to clear his airways, Alfred sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, slightly afraid that he would lose his breakfast all over the flooring. Realizing that he felt blood rush to his forehead, he maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. Large hands clamped around his ankles, the pressure slight and gentle as Ivan pulled him up.

Cerulean met violet again, and impulsively, Alfred put his head on Ivan's pale, expansive chest and closed his eyes, listening to his settling heartbeat. Ivan combed his hand through the wheat colored locks fondly as he heard Alfred's breathing begin to soften.

Taking off any excess layers, he laid Alfred on his side. The ashen blond found himself yawning as he gazed at the sleeping American below him.

He staggered towards the blinds, shutting them harshly and trekked back to the bed, sliding into the sheets and assuming a spooning position. Burying his nose into Alfred's hair, he inhaled deeply, taking in his natural woodsy scent. Closing his eyes yet again, he relaxed himself, the frays of a dream overtaking his mind.


End file.
